


Two Times Brittany Didn't Think, and One Time She Did

by meteoritecrater



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteoritecrater/pseuds/meteoritecrater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three vignettes spanning the years of Brittany and Santana's relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Penguins

Brittany could on occasion behave in a way that could only be described as  _spectacularly_  moronic, and sometimes it pissed Santana off. Most of the time the only part that annoyed her was that she found it so fucking adorable, but sometimes it actually, hardcore, made her throw things around her room and scream until her throat burnt and her head throbbed. It was rare for her to say anything to Brittany's face, because Brittany cried when people were angry with her and damn it if that wasn’t the last thing on Santana’s to do list  _ever_. Sometimes, though, Brittany would do something so completely thoughtless that even Santana didn't have the patience for her.  
  
One of the first times she ever yelled at Brittany was after a hot summer of pool parties and alcohol, and a shared night that went beyond light kisses in sleeping bags. They'd been talking about what they wanted their first time to be like since they were eleven, so it had been fucking  _perfect_. Santana had known to get vanilla scented candles but keep the lights on (because Brittany was still, a little bit, afraid of the dark), and Brittany had known to play instrumental jazz instead of something with lyrics because Santana was worried she’d get distracted and start singing along to the music. Brittany even knew about the deeper fear - the one where she was just  _awful_  at it, but she’d dispelled it with her first breathless murmur and her whisper afterwards that they should do it again sometime. When Santana kissed her and drew a spider's web across the plane of her back, she changed her mind and amended it to a sleepy ‘ _all_  the time.'  
  
Santana had  _thought_  that it was all perfect, she’d  _thought_  that the fact that they’d kissed goodbye the same way they always did meant that things wouldn’t have to change all that much (except for maybe their friend-dates involving more sex, because really, that was just way too much fun not to do as often as possible). But when Santana called her the next morning, she got redirected to a recording of Brittany saying in her Professional Voice: 'This is Brittany's phone, but she's not here right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I mean, she will. I mean, she means. Whatever, call me back!'   
  
She left a cautious message after the tone, asking if she was okay and waiting on the line for an answer that wasn't going to come. She called her again that night, and texted her with a solitary question mark when the phone rang out and went to voicemail again. They usually saw each other at least once a day in the holidays, so when a whole day had gone by without any contact from Brittany at all, Santana felt she was legitimately allowed to be freaking out and stalked her house. Brittany’s car wasn’t there, and nor was it there the next morning when she sort of accidentally drove down her street when she was on her way to buy vanilla essence. (They had none in the house and seriously, how were they supposed to make spontaneous drunk cake without vanilla essence?) Santana parked her car outside of Brittany's house and let the engine idle for a few moments, biting her lip in thought. She took a deep breath as she killed the engine, nodding decisively and marching up to the front door. A slight woman answered with a joyful exclamation of 'Santana!' and a warm hug. Brittany had convinced her - when she was a  _lot_  younger and more gullible, obviously - that her mom had elvish blood, but really, looking at her, it wasn't that hard to imagine. Her hair was loose and wavy, pulled back from her face by two small braids, and she was so tiny that Santana couldn't imagine her producing someone as...well, Brittany wasn't large, exactly, but you couldn't call her petite, either.  
  
"Hi Cilla-Maria." Santana said, scuffing the sole of her shoe along the porch, a flush on her cheeks. It was hard to keep from thinking that she'd had her fingers  _inside_  this woman's daughter (and holy shit, Santana still couldn't quite believe that). "Uhm, is Britt here?"   
  
Brittany's mom frowned, her face screwing up into a familiar blend of confusion and intrigue that Santana couldn't help but smile at. "I thought she was sleeping over at your house?"   
  
Santana felt her heart drop to the floor beneath her feet, and she stayed perfectly still in case she inadvertently stood on it. "No, she left," Santana managed, darting a quick glance behind her as though she expected Brittany's car to have appeared since she last looked for it.   
  
"Are you sure she isn't just hiding under your bed?" Brittany's mom asked, a pleasant curiosity in her voice.   
  
Santana blinked at her, getting out a strangled, "I'll go home and check." She didn’t slam the front door in her face, but she pulled the car door closed so hard it rattled her seat. She kept trying, calling her daily and even (maybe) checking under her bed, just in case. On the third day she called Brittany’s mom again, who told her not to worry, she’d be fine, because her tarot cards told her that she was just taking a holiday.  
  
Santana didn’t think it was endearing anymore. Sometimes Brittany  _and_  Brittany’s mom were both fucking moronic, so Santana threw a chair at her wall and cracked the paint. Her dad told her she’d have to repaint it, and Santana just muttered something that passed for agreement, closing the door and slipping into bed, pulling the covers up over her face and screaming into her pillow.  
  
Brittany sent her a text the next morning, only asking if she was at her house.  
  
Santana texted back, her fingers slipping on the keys so often that she had to rewrite every other word of her reply. Ten minutes later, she opened the door to an armful of blonde headed energy.  
  
“Hey S! I missed you!”  
  
“Okay,” Santana said, too dazed by her sudden solid presence to do more than hug her back reflexively.  
  
“I got you a present!” Brittany said, babbling as she linked hands with her and led her insistently up the stairs to her bedroom. “I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I tried to wrap it with hair ties, only I didn’t have enough, so then I went out and bought more but then it was difficult and it was taking too long and I  _really_  wanted to see you so I figured you wouldn’t mind?” She didn’t stop talking until they were both facing each other cross legged on Santana’s bed, when she took a hand from behind her back and displayed a stuffed penguin. There were a few hairties around its legs, and one forlorn one hanging from its beak. Santana just stared at it, and Brittany’s face fell. “You look mad. I’m sorry about the wrapping paper. I’ll buy some next time.”  
  
 “I’m not mad about the fucking  _wrapping_  paper, Brittany!” Brittany’s eyes widened, looking so hurt that Santana dropped the arms she’d flung up in the air and took the stuffed penguin from her. “Thank you for the present.” She looked down at the penguin, unwrapping the hairties from it and putting them down in a meticulous line on the pillow. She'd flipped her hair over to cover her eyes but Brittany reached a hand out to move it back behind her ear, brushing past the skin of her neck. “Where’ve you been?” Santana asked, her voice softening.  
  
“I drove to New York.” Brittany’s hand moved to skim across her collarbone, and Santana's eyes closed, her breathing steadying.  
  
“I called you.”  
  
“I forgot my phone. I was excited.”  
  
“Britt,” Santana sighed, clasping her hand. “You disappeared for like, three days. Your mom didn’t even know where you were. I was worried.”  
  
“Oh,” Brittany frowned, a little crease of thought forming on the smooth skin of her forehead.  
  
“What would you have felt like if I’d just gone away and you couldn’t ask me where I was?”  
  
“Oh,” Brittany said again, her eyes blinking closed. “Oh, I didn’t even…I would’ve been freaking out. I’m so sorry, San. I don’t know how I didn’t think about that.”  
  
“Yeah, I freaked out, B. At first I thought it might’ve been because of…after…and then I thought you might be hurt or something and that was worse.”  
  
“San…” Brittany said, her whole hand pressing up against her sternum like she was trying to draw out the ache. Santana bit into her lip, and Brittany put both arms around her, drawing soothing circles on her back. She let her head drop into the crook of Brittany's neck; her skin was warm and she could feel every breath as though it was coming from inside her own chest. “I’m  _so_  sorry, S. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I thought you would know that that was like, the best night I’ve ever had. Including that time at Disney Land when I got to talk to Aladdin.”  
  
Santana hated that she needed the confirmation, but she tightened her hold around Brittany’s shoulders and asked “Yeah?” in a small voice, muffled by the skin of Brittany’s neck.  
  
“Of course it was, S, it was perfect. Didn’t I tell you that?”  
  
“You did. You did.” Santana stayed still until she was sure she wasn’t going to do anything more embarrassing than she already had. When she pulled back Brittany’s smile was dim, so Santana kissed her gently, watching her brighten in automatic response. “So what’d you go to New York for, anyway?” Santana asked casually, flopping on her back on the bed. Brittany followed, pillowing her head on Santana’s stomach.  
  
“Went to the zoo,” Brittany said. “It was super awesome.”  
  
“Yeah?” Santana asked, only half interested in what she was saying, content to feel Brittany’s solid weight on her chest and stroke a soft hand through her hair.  
  
“Uhuh. I went to see the penguins ‘cause I heard some of them were gay and I wanted to make sure they were happy.”  
  
Santana’s entire body tensed, and Brittany sat up to find her wide-eyed and staring. “San?”  
  
Santana took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, B.”  
  
“Are you okay? You like, stopped breathing. It was freaky.”  
  
Santana tugged her back down so they were nose to nose and kissed her, hard and full. “Tell you what, you promise not to disappear again, and I’ll promise to keep breathing.”  
  
“Deal,” Brittany murmured against her lips, hooking a leg over her thighs. Santana sighed and thought, yeah, okay, so Brittany might be completely fucking insane sometimes, but damn it if she wasn’t her favourite person in the entire world.


	2. Ballads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Song fic overtones (get it get it overtones. No but actually this is mostly song fic so if you hate that don't bother reading).

The colours of the magazine blurred together, the words going unread as Santana flicked a page aimlessly, deep in thought. She rolled her eyes at herself and bit back an irritated sigh, not wanting to disturb Brittany from her game of dot to dot with the freckles on her arm. It was ridiculous, she was having to give herself a pep talk just to bring up a simple question. She was used to saying what she wanted whenever she wanted, especially when she was with her best friend, but this question kind of meant a lot to her. It wasn't just because she was intensely curious, although that may have contributed; Brittany couldn't keep a secret to save her life but she'd been remarkably tight-lipped this past week and it had driven Santana a little crazy. But damn it, she'd picked the perfect ballad and though she'd been goddamn terrified of doing it in front of the entire glee club she'd been determined, and the relief of not having to go through with it grated at her uncomfortably. Santana Lopez never pussied out of anything once she set her mind to it. It was like, a law or something. She’d spent forever picking the right song, agonising over whether or not to do this right, and making sure that it wasn’t strictly a ballad because going along with Mr Schuester’s rules gave her hives. Some stupid lameass be-nice-to-the-pregnant-chick bonding was not going to be allowed to get in the way of her plans. Santana lowered her magazine, the blonde head lying on her shoulder raising in response to her sharp inhalation. “So what was your ballad?”

Brittany grinned and bounded up from the bed with an excited, “Want me to sing it you?”

“Well…sure, B,” Santana said, giggling as Brittany bounced on her toes before closing her eyes and starting to move her hips to the music in her head.

Santana’s eyes focused on her swaying skirt, and for a split second she literally - and she’d always thought that this was just a disgustingly corny myth so it was more than a little embarrassing - couldn’t remember how to inhale.

“Well you’re dirty and sweet…” Santana’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide and dear God was she glad they hadn’t had the opportunity to do this in glee because she knew this song and it was not PG-rated. Brittany’s hands spread themselves up toned thighs, lifting her already short skirt higher, and she ducked her torso so that her entire body rippled. “Clad in black don’t look back and I love you…you’re dirty and sweet, oh yeah.” Santana’s mouth went dry; she tried to clear her throat to interrupt but three of those words had rendered her incapable of movement. “Well you're slim and you're weak, you've got the teeth of the hydra upon you, you're dirty sweet and you're my girl.” Santana felt the truth of those words hit her square in the gut as Brittany’s blue eyes twinkled at her, her lashes dropping coquettishly. If there was one thing in the world that Brittany was good at, it was making Santana want her more than she'd ever want anything else.

It wasn’t exactly musical, this song, but Brittany’s dancing was more than making up for it. Her shoulders arched and the electric guitar in the movement set up a matching pulse in Santana's body, and she crossed her legs against it. “Get it on, bang the gong, get it on.” A whimper ached behind lips pressed tight together, and Brittany flashed white teeth at her. That song had never made this much sense before. “Get it on, bang the gong, get it on. Well you’re…”

“Brittany!” Santana choked out, her voice pitched far too high, as Brittany’s movements brought her closer to the bed she was sitting on. “Britt,” she tried again, lowering her voice, and Brittany stopped, her hands falling to her sides.

“Yeah?” Brittany asked, pouting. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

“You were…” Santana cleared her throat. “Really gonna sing this in glee club? In front of everyone?”

“There was going to be less stripping involved,” Brittany told her matter-of-factly, and Santana blinked. “Told you I hadn’t gotten to the good part yet.”

“B…this…didn’t you like, think? That maybe you shouldn’t be singing about wanting to fuck me in front of glee club? And Mr. Schuester?”

“Oh,” Brittany said, her face falling. “Sorry, S, it’s just kind of our song. It reminds me of you.”

Santana scrubbed her face with her hands and sighed. “Don’t be sorry, B, it’s…uh, sweet. But it’s supposed to be…I mean, a ballad isn’t…”

“It’s s’posed to be about feelings, I thought?” Brittany asked. “I feel like I want to have sex with you. A lot.”

Oh dear sweet Jesus, as if anyone could ever say no to that. And by the tilt to her head and the smirk on her lips, Brittany knew that.

“Can I keep going now?” Brittany asked, after Santana had tried and failed to respond to that several times. Santana mentally rolled her eyes at herself as she nodded twice in quick succession, but Brittany’s grin and proud little wiggle made her forget to be embarrassed.

“Well you're windy and wild, you've got the blues in your shoes and your stockings.” As Brittany’s finger skated up the side of her thigh teasingly before hooking under her own shirt, all pretence at annoyance faded away. It was Brittany and yes, if she’d done this in glee it would’ve been a total disaster, but even then Santana wasn’t sure she’d have been able to maintain her irritation in the face of that blinding smile. Brittany was dancing, and when Brittany danced she enjoyed herself, and when Brittany enjoyed herself everything was right in Santana’s world. The simplicity and force of that truth made Santana’s chest ache even as Brittany’s shirt landed on her lap. “You're windy and wild, oh yeah, you're built like a car, you've got a hub cap diamond star halo, you're dirty sweet and you're my girl.” Santana was transfixed, and Brittany’s smile gentled and sweetened, swaying closer until she was dancing in between Santana’s legs. Santana’s hands rested on the thick air inches away from her hips, and Brittany unclasped her bra and let it fall to join the shirt on Santana’s lap. Santana’s face slipped upwards into a smile she knew was too goofy but damn it, she didn’t care, because Brittany was dancing (and alright, it didn’t hurt that her breasts were swaying close to her face either). “Sing along now,” Brittany whispered, teeth grazing the curve of her ear and Santana shivered so bodily she swallowed the first syllable of the line. 

“You're dirty and sweet, clad in black, don't look back.” Brown eyes snapped to blue and Brittany’s head tilted to the side, her lips closing over the next words and Santana knew, in this moment, that Brittany had been just as scared to do this as she had, because suddenly it was obvious that those words weren’t just a part of the song. Brittany stilled as Santana missed the first beat, the music leaving her body. Santana’s hands tightened until they were grasping her hips, holding her steady in between her legs and leaning in until her lips were pressed against Brittany’s. Brittany stayed frozen, her eyes closed against the rejection and her lips unyielding.

“And I love you,” Santana said, the music leaving her voice. Her words weren’t steady, and her voice was low, but Brittany’s eyes blinked open and there was a new sparkle of joy there that let Santana know she’d made something right. “You're dirty and sweet, oh yeah,” Santana sang, and Brittany laughed, her breath catching as they continued, together, “you dance when you walk so let's dance, take a chance, understand me. You're dirty sweet and you're my girl.” Santana tapped Brittany on the nose, and Brittany smiled wide, taking off her panties and dropping them beside Santana’s hand, leaving herself clad in only a small red skirt.

“Get it on, bang the gong,” Brittany sang, giggling as Santana wordlessly stared at her, her mouth lip-syncing the words but no sound escaping. “Get it on, get it on...” She leant back in towards Santana, straddling her waist and whispering the last words of the song with a thrust of her hips that sent an aching quiver spiralling outwards from the heat pressing against her. “Take me!”

And okay, so Santana wasn’t usually one to take orders, but it was Brittany, and Brittany was dancing, so damn it if it wasn’t okay, maybe just this one time.

*

One nap, two breaks for water, and three hours later, Brittany lay wrapped up in Santana’s arms. Santana’s breathing was heavy with sleep, but a thought was burning curiosity into Brittany’s brain and she couldn’t lie still.

“B…” Santana groaned, as a particularly wild wriggle pressed an elbow into her abdomen. “Really. Jesus. I thought I’d gotten rid of your energy. You sure as hell got rid of mine.”

“I just…I want to know what your song was.”

“Alannis Morrissete, Head over Feet, can we go to sleep now?” Santana asked.

“Okay,” Brittany said quietly. She stayed perfectly still, but it was Brittany and she was never perfectly still, and that woke Santana up more firmly than the movement had.

“B…” Santana sighed, pressing a quick kiss behind Brittany’s ear. “What is it?”

“I just…I sang you mine.” There was something raw and open in her voice, and Santana took in a sharp breath. That was fair. Brittany had laid herself open for rejection and…

“Alright, alright,” Santana said, closing her eyes and grasping for the words. Brittany settled, her head pressing Santana down against the mattress in a way that really wasn’t conducive to singing. Luckily, the song was quite a simple one to sing, if you discounted the words. She opened her eyes and found Brittany’s in close proximity, staring at her unblinkingly. The darkness covered her blush, but Brittany was near enough to feel it and she touched a soft hand to her hip in answer.

“I had no choice,” Santana started, glad for the darkness and the suddenness of the request because although she may never have pussied out of anything before, if she ever were to, this would be the thing that made it happen. “But to hear you. You stated your case time and again. I thought about it.” Her voice felt strained and there was a quiver in it that Santana didn’t like, but Brittany pressed her cheek into Santana’s shoulder and it steadied her. “You treat me like I'm a princess. I'm not used to liking that. You ask how my day was.” Brittany’s hair brushed Santana’s arm as she cocked her head, and Santana could have traced the path of the small, confused frown she knew would be on her face as she tried to figure out what she was suggesting. “You've already won me over in spite of me, and don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet. Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are.” Santana felt the ghost of Brittany’s breath on her face pause and the grasp of her hands tighten the material of her shirt, and there was a definite waver to her next words. “I couldn't help it; it's all your fault. Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole. You're so much braver than I gave you credit for. That's…that’s not lip service…” Santana’s voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, nudging at Brittany’s hand with her cheek, needing the contact. Brittany’s hand was shaking as she spread it out over Santana’s cheek, and it was only with Brittany’s open palm on her face that Santana felt the dampness and realised she was crying. “You are the bearer of unconditional things. You held your breath and the door for me, thanks for your patience.”

Brittany made a small, high pitched noise in the back of her throat and scooted her whole body so that it was pressed tight against Santana’s front, so that every breath that rattled in Santana’s chest echoed in hers.

“You're the best listener that I've ever met. You're my best friend, best friend with benefits.” Brittany’s giggle was wet with tears, and Santana’s next line was soft and low and made Brittany choke. “What took me so long? I've never felt this healthy before; I've never wanted something rational. I am aware now.” Santana felt a tremor surge through Brittany's body and she repeated the line, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Brittany's mouth, her fingers soft in her hair. “I am aware now.” Brittany’s hands tightened painfully in Santana’s clothes, and her breath caught in her lungs and broke into a sob. Santana had been about to sing the last chorus, but Brittany was crying and she couldn’t hold her close enough.

“B…B, stop...please, I can’t…B, you know I can’t do anything when you cry, please, don’t,” Santana said, desperately gathering her closer and making small circles on her back, biting her lip against the tears that threatened to appear in sympathy.

“I thought I was going too far with the…and then you…and you usually distract me with sex but that wasn’t…”

“Shh…” Santana tried to soothe her, kissing her hair and the wet tracks on her cheeks. “Please, B, stop crying, I can’t deal.”

Brittany’s laugh tangled with a sob in her throat, but her hands loosened their hold and her breathing steadied. Her head stayed firmly in Santana’s chest, and Santana just kept rubbing her back awkwardly. “You were really going to…stand up? In glee? And sing that? To me?”

“Well…yeah,” Santana said, closing her eyes against the thought. Singing it to Brittany had been bad enough – singing that, being that honest, in front of glee? The idea alone made her dinner flip over uncomfortably. “It would’ve been totally badass with the guitar part.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Brittany said, and Santana’s eyes flew back open to find Brittany regarding her seriously. “You’d have hated every second of it.”

“Well…yeah,” Santana said, in a voice that made it obvious that what she meant by that was duh. “But…God, B, fuck those losers. You’re the important one.”

Brittany burrowed her head back into Santana’s chest, and Santana stroked her hair until her breathing had stopped shaking in her lungs. She brought her head out to kiss her, sweet and gentle. “You’re perfect.”

“B…you know me way better than that.” Santana's laugh was lighter than her words, and her fingers beat a nervous rhythm against warm, bare skin.

Brittany’s hand trailed up her arm, folding the hairs the wrong way and then smoothing them back again. “You’re my perfect.”

Her voice was soft and full of the type of conviction that Santana could barely wrap her mind around, so she wrapped those words around her mind instead and held on to them, with hope as fervent as a prayer.


	3. Families

"Damn you's a sexy biiiitch! A sexy biiiiitch!" The lyrics cut through iCarly and Brittany grinned wide, rolling over onto her side, blinking the sun out of her eyes and grasping for her phone, getting distracted momentarily by the way the pink rhinestones Santana had painstakingly glued on one afternoon glittered the light onto the ceiling. "Damn girl," her phone reminded her. Brittany wasn't entirely sure how Santana had managed to make her ringtone different to everyone else's, but even if she did, she probably wouldn't have changed it back. “Saaaan! Hi," Brittany said, flopping back against her pillows and giggling at an advert.  
  
“Hey Britt,” Santana said, her voice deceptively casual. Brittany grasped for the remote, muting the TV and tightening the phone against her cheek.  
  
“What’s up?” Brittany asked, her legs swinging nervously over the side of the bed. She knew that tone.  
  
“Just wondering what you’re up to…” Santana said nonchalantly.  
  
“Nothin’, watching the Disney Channel. Why?” Brittany asked.  
  
“So you’re not studying at all?” Santana asked her, her voice sharpening, and Brittany bit her lip, annoyed at herself for not seeing that one coming.  
  
“No. But if you are that’s cool, I’m not gonna like, bother you or anything.”  
  
Her voice was pointed, but Santana ignored it. “Britt. This is junior year. These are our SATs.”  
  
“Yeah, I know that.”  
  
“Britt…this exam…it’s like, really, really important. Those books I got you - you need to open them and you need to study.”  
  
“Okay okay, fine, I’ll study,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes at the phone and picking the remote back up, flipping through the channels with the sound turned off. There was silence for long enough that Brittany asked, “Hello?”  
  
“I’m coming over.” Santana’s voice was abrupt, and there was a hurt in it that made Brittany turn the TV off completely.  
  
“San…”  
  
“No. I’m coming over. You’re gonna study for this, B, if I have to sit and watch you for the year.”  
  
“Now you’re just being super ins-“ At the dial tone, Brittany pulled the phone away from her ear to look at it incredulously. Had Santana really just hung up on her? Santana never hung up on her. “Mean,” Brittany told her phone, snapping it shut. She contemplated telling her mom not to let Santana in, but slipped underneath the covers of her bed instead, rolling onto her side away from the door.  
  
She didn't hear Santana come in, so she wasn't sure how long she stood in the doorway before crossing the room to sit on her bed. But she felt the mattress dip, and she took a deep breath of Santana's perfume, otherwise pretending she hadn't noticed her enter.  
  
"Brittany..." Santana sighed. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now?"  
  
Brittany stopped herself half way through a nod, making a face at the wall. Santana's giggle was tinged with frustration.  
  
"Britt...I need to talk to you about this. Okay? It's serious. On second thoughts, this might even work better if you're not interrupting."  
  
Brittany's mouth opened in complete outrage, but she snapped it closed and narrowed her eyes, not rising to the bait.  
  
"I know you can hear me, B...so I'm gonna talk at you and I need you to listen, 'kay?" Her voice was soft and serious and Brittany would have put her hands over her ears, except there was a something like pleading, or sadness, or fear, and reluctantly Brittany pursed her lips and stayed where she was.  
  
"I know you don't like working," Santana started. "I know it's hard for you. You've never been the best at studying and shit, but you used to do it anyway. You used to...you used to  _try_ , like, really hard, and I know it was difficult and took a lot of effort and work and you never came top of the class and it sucked when the people who did hardly put any effort in at all. But you were never bottom of the class back then, either, and you did everything you could. You put so much of yourself into everything you do, and that's one of the things I love most about you. But you...you gave up somewhere along the line and I kind of hate it. I mean, I love you," she assured her, sounding moderately panicked for a second, "But I hate that you gave up." Her speech sounded either scripted or like she'd been thinking about it for so long that she knew exactly what to say, and Brittany stiffened against the disappointment in it. There was a pause as Santana waited for her to say something back, and then a grunt of irritation. "Brittany. Turn around. I can't talk to the back of your head forever." Brittany's heart pumped unpleasantly fast in her chest, and there was a strange mixed up feeling of hurt and anger that made her want to do exactly what Santana had said - to turn around and just hug her and hug her and hug her and never let go. Santana clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and Brittany knew that noise, and the look she knew her hair was receiving, and it usually either meant that Santana was about to run away or yell or cry. "B..." Santana tried instead, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please listen, okay? This is super important. I need you to start trying at school again, please? For me, okay? Please." After a few moments, heavy with silence, Santana's hand tightened around her shoulder. "For God's sakes, Britt, turn around. How old are you, five? You can't just ignore me."  
  
In answer, Brittany ripped her shoulder out from under Santana's hand, dragging the covers back and over the top of her head.  
  
"Oh my  _God_ , Brittany. For fucks sakes,  _look_  at me." Her voice was rough around the edges of the crack in her words, and Brittany had to hold both hands tight in towards her chest, closing her eyes and willing her to go away. "What is  _wrong_  with you? For once, can you just look past today? This isn't about a stupid bit of work, this is about what's going to happen after we get out of here and...I can't believe you're still ignoring me, Brittany! Why the hell aren't you talking to me? I can't be concerned about our future? Fuck it, I can't keep doing this."  
  
The moment where Brittany processed those words stretched out into stillness, in a place where breathing was impossible and it hurt to exist. She must have made some sort of noise, because Santana had a hand on her back instantly. "Oh God no, no Britt, I meant talking to your blanket, not...not...oh, god, no. Never that. Just...crap. B, you make me so  _crazy_." Her hand lifted from her shoulder and her words were muffled, and the picture of Santana cradling her head in her hands was so vivid in Brittany's head that she had to clasp her hands together to fight the urge to turn and hug her. Santana's voice gentled from anger into hurt confusion. "B, it's just..." she paused for a long minute, collecting her thoughts together once more. "These SATs, they tell us what we can and can't do after graduation, okay? I need you to study so you can get into college and come with me and...don't you  _get_  it?"  
  
"I get it just fine." Brittany tried to yell the words, but her throat was too tight to do more than squeeze them roughly past the fear.  
  
"B..." Santana's sigh sounded too much like relief, and Brittany had to take the covers from around her face then, to twist around and find her looking as relieved as she sounded. "Oh. Babe," Santana bit her lip, and Brittany swiped at her face with her hands. Her face was as sullen as Santana had ever seen it, and Santana felt everything stop. "You don't...I mean, you don't want to, then? Is that what this is? You don't want to get out of here with me?"  
  
"Of  _course_  I do," Brittany said, a forceful exhalation of a promise.  
  
"Why are you so mad at me, B?" Santana asked. Brittany followed her gaze to find her playing with her own fingers, and she reached out and squeezed them tight in her hand instead.  
  
"I'm not. I'm mad at...everything. I don't want to make you...I don't even know. Look, if I tell you this, can you promise not to tell my parents?"  
  
"B, there's a fuckload of stuff I don't tell your parents," Santana said with a smirk. Brittany looked entirely unamused, and Santana cleared her throat. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I promise, B."  
  
"Okay. Why are you assuming I'm going to college?"  
  
"Because," Santana drawled. "It's what you do after high school."  
  
"No, it's what people like you do. Not people like me."  
  
"That's completely crazy-"  
  
"No, what's crazy is doing something like paying and studying for a test you don't need to take. I'm not going to college, S. You need to accept that."  
  
"Britt...Britt, no. You're so much...you could totally do it if you just started trying again. I'm not saying you can get into an ivy league school or anything, but you can get in somewhere, I promise. I'll help you. I'll-"  
  
"San, stop," Brittany said, gentling her voice and bringing Santana's hand up to her mouth to kiss the palm. Santana stroked along her face, eyes confused as she drew the pad of her thumb across her lips, but she stayed silent and Brittany held Santana's hand against her cheek as she spoke. "I know I could get into a college if I tried. Some little place that only accepts people like the kids that hang out in bus shelters so drug fucked they don't know their right from their left."  
  
Santana refrained from pointing out that Brittany couldn't remember that either, most days. Which was only polite, because if she brought that up then Brittany would retaliate with the last time she'd let Santana read the map, when Santana had sworn she knew exactly where she was taking them and they'd ended up having to sleep at a motel. Santana's back still hurt from that floor. They'd had that same conversation too many times for Santana not know that it always ended up in her losing. Now she just reminded Brittany whenever she forgot, and Brittany made sure to take over map-reading duties.  
  
"But it'd take a hell of a lot of effort for me to even get in there, and my sister..."  
  
Santana frowned. "Your sister?"  
  
"My parents aren't like yours, San. My dad's not a doctor. We're not like, fighting to eat or anything, and they've got enough money to send us both to average colleges. But my sister's not like me." Brittany grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride. "She goes to camps for  _gifted_  kids, San. Like, places where she learns the names of trees and catches fish and looks at stars, and she's skipped a grade, and she could've skipped another couple only my parents want her to feel as normal as possible. She got her IQ tested because they knew she was smart - not 'cause they thought she might have a learning disability."  
  
Santana winced. She'd really hoped Brittany hadn't known the reason for that test. Brittany shrugged one shoulder, her smile still bright. "So yeah, I could get into a college if I wanted and I really tried. But I'd rather let the money go to my sister, so she can get to a decenter place."  
  
"More decent," Santana corrected automatically, rolling her eyes at herself. "Aw, Jesus, we've been hanging out with Berry too much." Brittany giggled. "Do your parents know you're doing this, B?"  
  
"As if. They'd never go for it. But she deserves it, you know she does. She's a little genius, I swear. So I just stopped working. Can't go to college if I don't get the grades, right? Anyway. I'm totally making her buy me a boat when she wins that prize that science people get for being smart. And maybe a unicorn."  
  
"Fuck, B," Santana said. "You're...just...fuck."  
  
"Don't make out like I'm doing some big sacrifice here," Brittany warned her, pointing a finger at the expression on Santana's face that had slipped into something far too close to adoration. "I'm happier dancing than studying, anyway, and you know it. But...I mean. I decided all this a while ago. Before like, you and stuff. And you're as much family as she is now, so it kinda sucks that it's making you sad."  
  
"It's not making me sad. I won't let it. I love you," Santana told her, cupping her chin. "You know that, right?"  
  
"I know."  
  
"So I'll...I'll do anything, B. I'm not leaving you behind here. I can go to Ohio State. That's huge, there'd be tons of cute guys there and...not that I'd do anything with them! They're just nice to look at. But it's not even two hours away, I could totally-"  
  
"Stop it, San. You're not gonna stay in Lima. This is why I didn't want to tell you. Don't change your plans, I'm not gonna hold you back from them. I'll break up with you first."  
  
"What?" Santana whispered, because Brittany looked completely determined. "That's crap. You're not holding me back-"  
  
"I know I'm not," Brittany said, completely self-assured. "You're going to apply for the schools you actually want to go to. And I'm coming with you."  
  
"You're...you're what?"  
  
"Coming with you. You're not getting rid of me that easy."  
  
"But you just said...you can't go to college 'cause..."  
  
"I didn't say anything about college," Brittany said, smiling. “I'll follow you anywhere, San, that's a given. Don't be silly. Where are you planning to go?”  
  
“I don’t…it depends on what grades I get,” Santana said weakly. “You’d really-”  
  
“What’s your first choice?”  
  
“I…I don’t know. Maybe New York State.”  
  
“I’m sure there’s a place or two looking for a dance tutor there. Or maybe choreographing, or even a cheerleading coach. Loads of options. Not for a while, of course.”  
  
“No?” Santana asked, bewildered.  
  
“No. You’ll be too busy studying to work, at first. Dancer's pay won't help you at all. I’ll get a job as a waitress or a bartender…with me working full time and the money your parents will give you…we should be able to afford to rent our own place.”  
  
“You’ve thought about… you’ve planned it all.” Santana’s eyes were full of a quiet sort of wonder, and Brittany’s head cocked to the side.  
  
“Sure I did. We’re too important.”  
  
Santana sucked in a breath, holding it until it felt steady. “That’s right,” she said softly, “We’re it, babe.”  
  
Brittany threaded her fingers through Santana’s, pulling her backwards on top of her, and the room was filled with the sound of giggles and rose tinted futures.


End file.
